One Red Thread
by Sphynx
Summary: God willing, Leonard won't be on this mission long. After all, the chances of the crew of the Richard Feynman actually negotiating with Tarsus IV are about slim to none.   AU
1. Chapter 1

Leonard McCoy hates flying.

There aren't many things he bothers hating, if he's honest. He prefers throwing his passions into something useful– something that will eventually help others. He's a doctor; it's in his nature to help. He supposes in some way, that his irrational fear of flying has to do with the fact that he feels completely helpless in the air. He has no control over the people in the cabin and no way to help if the shuttle were to suddenly take a nose dive toward a planet.

He shudders and swallows, squeezing his eyes shut instead of watching out the window as Earth slowly disappears into the background. He shouldn't be thinking of shuttles crashing into rocks, or exploding in mid-air, or the various diseases anyone can get at any time . . .

Despite his fears, the shuttle lands comfortably in the dock of the USS Richard Feynman and he finds himself caught up in the rush and bustle as passengers hastily exit the vehicle. Leonard shouts a warning toward the kids, who nearly knock him over in their excitement to get to their station post. He hesitates and takes a second to look at his surroundings before moving forward. Always be prepared, that's Leonard's motto. One needs to know their basic layout of their surroundings and make note of passageways. If he is going to be stuck – unwillingly – aboard a starship for the next few weeks, he sure as hell is going to figure out his escape routes.

God willing, Leonard won't be on this mission long. After all, this is little more than a milk run with a heavy dose of political shenanigans After all, the chances of the crew of the _Richard Feynman_ actually negotiating with Tarsus IV are about slim to none.

* * *

The medical bay is almost laughable. He isn't chief medical officer, Leonard understands, but the standards Starfleet currently has for their basic set ups are ridiculous. He spends a few moments poking his way through their inventory and notes they're really only prepared for a short period of time in actual space. There are the immunizations and test kits for the Tarsusan plague, of course, but nothing Leonard sees that he can make sure of. It's something that makes him uncomfortable. No matter how short the run, a medical ward should always be prepared for anything that could happen – just because they don't intend to stay in space does not mean that Klingons aren't out there waiting for him.

He's preparing himself for the briefing they have in a few moments, one that everyone involved is required to attend. Leonard is both looking forward to and dreading the meeting – he wants all the information he can grab, of course, but the politics kill him. It's almost in insult – he's spent years researching illnesses in depth and finding out what makes them start and what kills them. His grandmother always told him it was the McCoy stubbornness – he couldn't just be satisfied knowing how to treat an illness. He has to know every fiber of its being, and he needs to know what makes it live. To Leonard, this is common sense. How could he know how to treat an illness if he doesn't know what makes it tick?

It's that passion and that knowledge that brought him on this mission. For others, it is simply politics.

The doors of the medical bay whoosh open and Leonard turns to place the hypos back in their proper place. A giant booming voice surrounds the room in a cry of "McCoy!" and Leonard almost comes out of his skin. He narrowly avoids dropping the case and manages to get them shelved before his hands start shaking. He would know that voice anywhere, although it's been years since he heard it, but the sound that is Mark Rousseau cannot be mistaken. Leonard swallows briefly before turning and giving his former friend a bright smile.

"Mark. It's been years!"

Rousseau is grinning from ear to ear as he slaps Leonard on the back, knocking the breath from him. "When I heard you were part of our medical team, I knew we were in good hands. Anyone with a Daddy like yours had to know medical practices backwards and forwards. I didn't know you were a part of Starfleet! I thought you married that Darnell girl and went off to live happily ever after."

Leonard manages not to scowl. "Yeah, well fate had different ideas. She's living that happily ever after with Clayton Treadway."

"No shit. Her old ex?"

"Same one. Apparently, they're perfect for one another."

Rousseau scowls for him. "You're better off with her." Leonard doesn't believe for half a second that Rousseau is honestly sympathetic. In high school, both men had tried for the attentions of Jocelyn Darnell, and Rousseau had been nothing but jealous when she favored Leonard over him. To find out later that she had ended up being nothing like what they both had thought – well, Mark was probably thanking the heavens she had not ended up with him. The silence gives Leonard a moment to take a good look at his former friend and realize that he's wearing the color and braids of a captain. He blinks in surprise.

"You're the captain?"

"The one and the only." Rousassu is grinning again and he leans against one of the bio beds. "It came as a surprise and completely last minute. Most of the orders still show Christopher Pike as the commanding officer of the unit. He came down with an illness at the last minute, and since we're already going into a situation with disease as it is . . well, they rethought their decision. Don't look so surprised!"

Leonard couldn't help it. In a way, he is not surprised. Mark had always been pushy and had the uncanny ability to get what he wanted. In high school, Mark had been the jock of the class – athletic, good looking, and academically brilliant. On the other hand, Leonard had been the bookworm in the back of the class who had somehow managed to snag one of the prettiest girls in the school. It was a strange friendship to look back on, but they helped each other – Mark helping Leonard socially and Leonard tutoring him through some of the tougher classes. Once graduated, Mark set his eyes on Starfleet and never looked back. If he maintained the same attitude in Starfleet as he had in high school, it was really no surprise that they had granted the man the rank of captain so quickly.

Still, he wishes the circumstances were a little better.

"If anyone has the right to be surprised, it's me. I thought you had a deathly fear of flying."

He does, and Leonard feels his stomach twist in response to Mark's words. "I've got no reason or place to really stay on Earth. I was shown a few years ago that I can die just as easily on earth as I can in the air."

Mark nods. "I heard about that . . . for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral."

Leonard says nothing in reply; he's heard all the "I'm sorrys" he can handle for one lifetime.

A message floats through the ship, reminding members of the away team they are required to attend the meeting. Leonard walks with Mark to the conference room. Neither of them speak on the way, only nodding and giving "hellos" to the crewmen they pass in the hallways. The silence is something Leonard is grateful for; it gives him just enough time to think about how to clear his head before he starts having to pack in more information. As they enter the conference room, Leonard sees small clusters of people broken across the table. They're all involved in conversations and it leaves him feeling a little out of place an uncomfortable. He finds a remaining seat at the end of the table, and gives a smile to a pretty blonde sitting to his right. She raises an eyebrow.

"Good evening, Doctor."

He blinks at her, surprised that she knows his rank and she laughs. "I saw you in medical earlier. I'm one of the nurses." She holds out one hand and shakes his with a surprisingly firm grip. "Christine Chapel."

They don't have much time for a chat as Mark takes his place at the head of the table. He spins his seat around, sitting in it backward and crossing his arms over the top of the chair. Leonard resists the urge to cringe – for all the rank Mark has, he still hasn't learned exactly how to be professional and what situations call for it. Mark has always been down to earth with his crews – he was in high school with the foot ball team, and he still is with his starship crew. He bites back a comment and leans back in his own chair.

'Good evening," Mark booms across the room, startling some of the girls. "Has everyone found their accommodations? I hope they're suitable."

Everyone nods, even Leonard, who has not yet been to his assigned room. He doesn't need to. All the rooms look the same; too small and claustrophobic. If Mark notices his hesitation in nodding, he doesn't comment. Instead, he steps out of his chair and sits in it correctly, swinging one leg over the other. "All of you should be aware of our mission. It's an assignment that does not come easy to Starfleet and we all know how long it's been since anyone has heard anything out of Tarsus IV. No off-worlder has stepped foot on the planet since the massacre, and we know the governor has shut off most contact with any other planets. To put it mildly, we were a little more than surprised when he reached out to us."

"He really didn't have a choice," Chapel says. "His planet is dying."

There is a low rumble throughout the conference room. Mark nods in Chapel's direction. "You're right, Miss Chapel, he really doesn't. For those who are still a little sketchy; we are being called to Tarsus IV to investigate, study and possibly bring a cure to a plague that has broken out among the colonists. From what we've gathered from the governor, the plague started just a few months ago. It starts as just a simple cough and is shortly followed by a fever. Once the fever hits the body, it is followed by vomiting, intense bouts of coughing, seizures and then followed by death. The closest their colony has come medical wise is slowing it down. With no other options, the governor has called out to us for help. He assures us we will be rewarded if we manage to help. If we don't, he will continue to seek healthcare elsewhere."

"Nice of them to let us know that." Leonard couldn't stop himself. "He doesn't put much trust in anyone, does he?"

"He's a guarded man," Mark says, with a shrug. "Very few are even aware of what he looks like. The most important factor is that this is the opening the Federation has been waiting years for. If we're able to help the governor, there is a high chance he might listen to us and even possibly join the Federation. We know he is young, and we know he will do just about anything to help his people."

A hand raised, and all eye focus on a young man sitting across from Leonard. He flushes, his cheeks turning the color of his hair before speaking. "Out of curiosity, do we know exactly how much power this governor actually has? After Kodos, we all have more than a little right to be suspicious."

"Good question!" Mark grins in the young man's direction. "We aren't really sure the amount of power he has. I'm going to guess right now it is probably more than a normal governor. There's a chance he could be acting like a king. It is a situation we must tread carefully upon. We aren't sure what we're going to find. We very well could be walking into the middle of a totalitarian reign."

Mark clears his throat before he continues. "Our goal is not to press Tarsus into joining. We aren't even going to suggest it at this point, so those who have issues with the political side can calm down a little. Our main goal is to save these people. We have aboard this ship ten of the best medical doctors that Starfleet has to offer, along with a full staffed team of nurses, medical assistants, physician assistants, and various medical positions. Above all, this is a medical mission."

It calms some of Leonard's fears – he's hopeful this means they'll listen to their doctors and not focus completely on the political side of Tarsus. He nods along with the rest of the crew as their say their understanding and are dismissed. He shoots Mark a grateful nod and smile before disappearing in the sea of crewmen.

Room 343, his assigned cabin, is exactly how Leonard pictured it. It's small, and cramped with barely enough room to turn around without running into something. He's grateful; he could have been stuck with a roommate or two. He tosses his belongings into a corner and sprawls on the bed. It creaks, but doesn't feel too terribly uncomfortable. Leonard rolls onto his side and closes his eyes, willing his mind to stop.

His body is much more tired than his mind is, and he feels himself being pulled towards drowsiness as he lays there longer. He manages to mumble "Lights! Out!" before passing out into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_The mess that was Tarsus IV is something the Federation doesn't like to talk about. Although they were never directly involved, most members see the tiny farming colony as a personal shame – something that they couldn't help or fix. One mistake lead to the deaths of thousands of people and the eventual pulling out of Tarsus from the rest of the galaxy. It is something that is drilled into the heads of every Starfleet officer and student – it is something they're going to damn well make sure never happens again._

The colony itself was nothing special. It had been founded in the year 2122 by explorers who were looking for another planet to place their crops. When the planet proved to have intensely fertile soil, a small farming colony was established. Within a few years, well over one thousand people had moved to Tarsus IV to begin their lives. It remained in small population – even now, the population still never reached over ten thousand at any given time. Few people went to Tarsus unless they knew someone; outsiders were considered suspicious and untrustworthy.

For the most part, it had stayed under the radar until 2245 when an exotic fungus caused the destruction of the colony's crops. Even now, botanists aren't sure where the fungus came from, or what caused it to suddenly turn on the land. There were rumors and theories that suggested it was from an outside source – that someone had brought it in unwillingly. All trade and visitations to Tarsus were stopped immediately. As the situation escalated and the food continued to diminish, the new governor, who went only by the name of Kodos, found himself faced with eight thousand starving people. He did the only thing he thought was logical – he panicked.

The colonists found themselves under a new, strict set of rules limiting how much of the rations they could eat, how much water was appropriate for each family, and how late they could be out each evening. He assured them he was taking care of the issue, and he would have them either a cure or a plan by the end of the year. Officials were sent to each home to acquire information on each household - age, race, and number of those in the household.

One unique thing about Kodos was his apparent love for children. From each small town in the colony, he selected a small group of children – together, they totaled thirty. They would be taken care of by his officials and schooled under his watch. They were the brightest and the best, he said. They were the future of his colony.

On January 1st, 2246 he launched his new plan to "fix" the problem; in a strange sense of genocide, Kodos announced and applied his own theory of eugenics and ordered the deaths of over four thousand of the colonists.

The remaining survivors that had returned to Earth described the colony as nothing but panic in the aftermath. People were no longer willing to live under the strict regulations and they revolted. Buildings were burned to the ground and colonists were killed in the raids. Those who were caught were treated to swift punishment – most of the time ending in death. Out of the group of rebels, a small group of the children – the brightest and the best in the colony – turned against their teacher. Together, they launched an attack on the main government building and succeeded in raiding and setting it aflame.

Details were sketchy, but the children did manage to succeed. When there was no word on if Kodos had survived the fire, his guards and officials took matters into their own hands. They captured three of the group and drug them in front of the main town center. No details have been released on what happened to the children, but statistics show out of the three, only one survived.

With Kodos continually missing, his government slowly began to crumble under the pressure of the colonists, and they slowly began to rebuild themselves. Crops were starting to grow again and a new leader (voted by the people) came up and helped the people through the difficulties.

That was the last most of the people of Earth heard from Tarsus IV.

* * *

Entry to the planet had gone over much easier than Leonard had anticipated. Tarsus had been waiting for them, and the governor had given permission for those allowed to beam to the planet for a small period of time to get to know the landscape of the capitol city and culture. Mark takes the opportunity to grant a temporary shore leave.

"Be mindful of the culture and the fact that we came here to help with a plague." he cautiously warned. "Interact with the locals, but please do not do anything stupid." Mark took an opportunity to shoot a glance toward some of the younger males in their party. "The goal is to help them, not scare them. Over all, be respectful and have fun. Call the ship if you run in to trouble."

Seconds after Mark finishes his speech, Leonard finds himself beamed aboard the planet. He shudders off the feeling - he hates transporters more than he hates shuttles - and takes a good look around. The sun has already set, but he can still see the outline of buildings and trees.  
Beneath his feet, the grass is soft - nothing like the hard and crunchy straw he saw in pictures. Tarsus IV may have been a formally poor and desolate planet, but things have obviously improved in the ten years since the massacre. Even in the dark, people are bustling about the street and quietly chatting amongst themselves. They don't look scared. They look happy.

Leonard takes a little comfort in that, at least.

He finds a brightly colored sign that flashes "Eischens Bar!" and takes a peek inside. There's a bar, but he can also see three or four families inside the main area. It looks clean and sanitary - two things Leonard always chooses for his bars. He steps inside and looks around, before walking to the bar and taking a seat. The menu is fairly straight forward - beers and wine coolers among other foods. There's a small sign proclaiming them to have the "best fried fretters in Tarsus!". Leonard isn't sure what a fretter is and he isn't going to take his chances. He orders a beer.

A body sits next to his and Leonard's eyes shift to catch a glimpse at the young man with the dirty blondish hair. The head turns and one eyebrow lifts in question. "Evening."

He honestly doesn't know why he's surprised to find they speak English. "Evening."

The bartender appears. "Evening, Jim! Same as usual? I hear the fretters are especially good tonight."

'Jim' shoots him a grin. "You say that every time, Nelly, and they haven't let me down thus far. The usual." The bartender shoots him a smile before walking off, mumbling happily to himself as he makes his way toward the back. The kid lets out a little puff of laughter and swivels his seat to face Leonard. "You look lost."

"I'm not used to the bar scene." It isn't a complete lie. When Leonard drinks, he prefers to do it in the company of his own home. That way, if he finds himself in a rambling mood - which he is prone to - the only thing that would listen are his walls. Leonard's drink arrives along with Jim's and the both take a moment to take sips. "You don't even look old enough to be drinking."

An amused look flashes over the kid's face, and he cracks a smile. "I'm old enough. I'm twenty-two."

"You don't look twenty-two."

The time, he outright laughs. "God, you're a load of fun. Are you always this charming, or did I just manage to catch you on a rare night?"  
"I'm always this charming." Leonard lets a smile cross over his face and allows himself to relax. "The name is Leonard, by the way. Leonard McCoy."

"Jim Kirk." The kid sticks his hand out and Leonard takes it, giving Jim a firm handshake. Jim takes a long sip of his beer. "I don't think I've seen you in here before. Are you usually a frequenter of Grants?"

Leonard has no idea what Grants is, but he assumes it is another local bar. He nods, and opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted as Nelly returns with a plate full of what looks to be fried chicken. Jim lets out an exclamation of happiness and gives Nelly a full grin.

"I put on some fried okra too, Jim. I know how much you love it."

Jim beams at him. "You're wonderful. Thanks." Jim takes a piece and hesitates, before holding it out to Leonard. "Here, have one."

"What is it?"

He cringes internally as Jim shoots him a confused look. "It's a fretter. What else would it be?"

Leonard takes the piece - it looks like a drumstick - and cautiously takes a bite. It's definitely poultry and is a little stronger than chicken. The taste isn't bad at all. He looks down as Jim starts pushing the plate of okra between them. "Here. If I get it for free, you can share some."

"You share your food with random strangers?"

Jim gives him a strange look that tells him he's messed up again. "I don't know what your family does, but I always share when I can. You never know when your neighbors next meal will be. Just take the damn okra."

Leonard takes the okra.

Jim focuses on his food and beer before speaking again. "You're not from around here." The statement isn't a question. Leonard resists the urge to face plant into the table in front of him. Before Leonard can open his mouth to explain, Jim continues. "You've obviously never been here before , you're confused on fretters and you looked at me like I was nuts when I offered you food. You're not from here. You're an outsider."

Leonard swallows. "Guilty."

"I assume you're part of the group from Starfleet?" Leonard nods, and Jim gives one of his own, popping a piece of okra into his mouth. "Don't worry, I'm not afraid of you. I'm not going to rat you out. Just a word of advice; if you're going to pose as a local, at least learn our culture before making your attempt."

He's sure his face is as red as a cherry. Leonard can feel the heat from his neck. "I didn't think about that."

"Most don't." Jim's beer is finished as he tips his head back and gathers the last few drops from the bottom. "Like I said, it's cool. I'm not going to rat you out. You're here to help us, and we appreciate that." Jim stands and grins down at Leonard, before digging into his pockets and producing a handful of papers – currency. He places a few on the counter, covered by his plate. "Nelley never asks for tips, but he's generous. I try to help his family out as much as I can." He holds one hand out to Leonard, and shakes it as he takes it. "It was nice meeting you, Leonard. I'll see you tomorrow."

He was gone before Leonard could ask how Jim knew of the meeting.

* * *

The planet looks different in the light of day. He supposes he had gone by the pictures – pictures that showed Tarsus IV as nothing more than a dry and dusty wasteland, with inhabitants too scarred and too thin to do anything other than stare. Instead, he finds the grass is green beneath his feet and the trees lining the governor's mansion are filled with fruit. Streets are lined with pavement and people are bustling about. It's all similar to the experience he found last night. Still, the light of day makes things clearer.

He hears surprised gasps as his fellow members are beamed down. Beside him, Chapel toes at the dirt with one boot. "It's so pretty."

The governor's mansion is lined with trees and flowers, which make pretty arrangments outside of the doorway. It isn't a large mansion – Leonard has seen larger in Georgia and California – but it's still twice as big as the houses and shops in the surrounding areas. In the middle of the garden, surrounded by stones and flowers, a flag flies proudly. Leonard is too far away to make out the design on the flag, but he's certain it's significant to their culture. He hears a small snort behind him, and he turns to find Chapel staring at the mansion with a look of distaste.

"You'd think such a formally poor planet wouldn't have such a glorious mansion. I can't see the people being okay with this – not after their last governor lived a life of luxury while they starved."

"There's a chance they built this for him as a means of thanks." Leonard suggests. "It's obvious Tarsus isn't the same as it was; people are active and they look healthy. The grass is green, businesses are in practice . . . from all outward signs, the people are being taken care of."

"Unless they're too scared to do aything." Chapel gives him a light shrug. "I'm skeptical, what can I say? This isn't my first rodeo with starving planets. . My ex-husband and I were part of the team that assisted with Cerebus III. It wasn't aywhere near the level of Tarsus, but Jesus, it was a mess . That was a few years before I entered Starfleet."  
Ah, Leoanrd thinks, grinning ot himself. She hasn't always been a Starfleet brat. "If you were aboard research vessels, how the hell did you end up in Starfleet?"

"Divorce," she asnwers. "I graduated with a degree in biomedical chemistry and completed my first two years of my physician's assistant course. When I left Roger, I lost the drive to go through with it. I heard Starfleet needed medical help, so I applied. I just graduated with my P.A."

Chapel had introduced herself as his head nurse. He shoots her a confused glance. "If you're a physician's assitant, you're head nurse why?"

"Double role. I'm getting to do more as a nurse than a P.A." she grins at him. "It's a step backward, but I know I have the credintials for it. Mark says he'll bump me up before the mission is finished. It's just a matter of time."

They've reached the main door of the mansion, Leonard realizes. Mark pushes his way toward the front of the group and hesistantly knocks upon the door. He's unsure about what to do, Leonard knows, and he gives them a little smile of "here goes" before one of the large doors open. Mark gives the guard a bright smile. "Good morning."

"Starfleet." It isn't a question.

"Yes, sir. We have an appointment with the governor."

The guard doesn't move. "State your name."  
"Captain Mark Rousseau. I am here with my crew, from the USS Richard Feynman. I have brough along some of the best medical team we have in the Federation and - "

The guard cuts him off. He steps away from the door and pulls it open wider. "You may enter. You will join the governor in the room at the end of the hallway and to the right. You will not touch anything. You will not speak to anyone. I will follow you."

To Leoanrd's surprise, the insideo f the mansion is mostly bare. The walls have few decorations and the two chairs in the room look as though they've never been sat in. He focuses his attention on Mark as he is led through the entry way and into the long and narrow hallway. As Mark reaches the last door on the right, he turns to glance at the guard, who is following behind them. "Do I knock."

"Go in."

A few people are gathered in the conference room already. They look up as the crew of the Richard Feynman enter and they offer small, gracious smiles. They stand.

"Welcome Starfleet." An older gentleman says, bowing slightly. "We welcome you to Tarsus IV, and thank you graciously for taking the time to help us. We are afraid we will never be able to show the gratidude that we know you deserve."

"The pleasure is ours." Mark says, and gives a bow in return.

"Please, take a seat."

The crew situate themselves around the table. The guard gives a nod to the older gentleman, and he nods back in return. Leonard takes the few spare moments to glance around the room and take note of the people. Most of the officials are older men, and those who most likely survived that massacre themselves. Some stare suspiciously at the crew, others are gazing at them with curiosity. A batch of dirty blonde hair catches his eye and Leonard frowns.

Standing right in the middle of the group of older officials in Jim Kirk. Leonard doesn't know why he's surprised; it makes sense. Kirk must be one of the governor's officials. As everyone settles, Jim looks around and gives a nod to the man who welcomed them. "I think we're good to go, Astor. You know I'll call if I need you for anything."

Astor gives him a nod. Without another word, the older men gather and leave the room, leaving Jim standing at the head of the table. A few seats ahead of him, Mark gawks.

"Gentlemen," Jim says and gives a nod in their direction. "Ladies. Forgive me for the confusion. My name is James Kirk. I am the governor of Tarsus IV."

Leonard feels the bottom of his stomach drop slightly. Mark clears his throat. "Forgive my shock, sir. We weren't expecting you to be so -"

"Young." Jim interrupts. "I know. It shocks most people." He doesn't give Mark a chance to answer. Instead, he takes the seat at the head of the table and folds his arms in front of him. He gazes at each of the team with a calculating gaze. "First of all, I want to thank you for your patience in this scenario. As I'm sure you're heard before, we're a little distrustful of those we don't know. My officials were worried you wouldn't react well knowing I was young. So I hid in my crowd, listened and once I was sure you were really here to help us, I annouced myself. So, crew of the Richard Feynman, what I want to know above everything else- what are you going to do to help my people?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am not dead. No internet access and real life took over! enjoy!**

* * *

There is a brief moment of silence as Mark looks between the doctors surrounding the table. Each one, save Leonard, are looking to him for some sort of guidance. Finally, Mark opens his hands in a gesture of surrender and smiles brilliantly up at the man before them. "Governor Kirk, once again I would like to extend my apologies to yourself and yours for the confusion. I do sincerely hope it will not cause a problem between us."

"I was the one who hid, not you." Jim – no Governor Kirk – says, and he sits before them. He stares at each one individually, his blue eyes piercing and calculating. This is not the carefree boy Leonard met last night in the bar. This is a man who knows his duties to his people and knows what he needs to do. "Captain Rousseau, do you know why I called you here?"

"We were told there was a plague."

"That's what they assume." The governor says, clicking a small button next to the head of the table. A bright light forms in the middle of the table and seconds later, the form of a human appears. "Around six months ago, our doctors received their first patient. She came in exhibiting symptoms including of fatigue, fever, and a small headache. The doctor that treated her says she showed signs of nothing more than just allergies, or perhaps a small cold. He prescribed her the appropriate medication and sent her on her way. Hours later, she showed up again, this time at the emergency room. She was blue. Within two hours, she started coughing, vomiting blood, and eventually died." Kirk takes a breath. "She wasn't alone. Her family members showed up shortly after that – all but her husband and eldest child died. Her co-workers, friends, then their families until it's reached the insane numbers we have today. We have no idea where this came from, what's causing it, or what it even is. My people are afraid, doctors. Many won't leave their houses; children are being pulled from their schools.

"Tarsus has seen its fair share of hard times, and we're strong people. We don't trust outsiders. But I can not sit by and watch my people die. Not again."

Leonard can hear the doctors talking amongst themselves as thins start to light up on the holographic body in front of them. "First, they say it starts in the lungs and presents itself as something close to an upper respiratory infection. Sneezing, runny noses, coughs, and headaches, followed by unusually high fevers and muscle aches. For some, the virus or whatever it is seems to stop there and doesn't progress any further. For those lucky, it ends within a week's time."

"Like a normal influenza?" One of the female doctors asks.

Kirk nods. "Correct. But for many, it settles into the lungs, causing pneumonia. Past this, my doctors tell me – and I know I am going to butcher this – it usually causes a . . hypercytok . . " Kirk stalls on the word, obviously hoping someone will help him out.

Leonard comes to his rescue. "Hypercytokinemia, or a cytokine storm. It's an over-reaction of the immune system. Your body is producing fluids to rid itself of the infection, but it floods it so fast, it doesn't have time to adapt. Instead, the lungs accumulate fluid so quickly is shuts off airways, which causes respiratory failure, which can and will lead to death if nothing is done about it quickly. It would explain why your patients are turning blue."

The way Kirk's eyebrows lift toward his hairline tells Leonard he is at least mildly impressed. "That's the way my doctors described it to me."

Mark shifts in his seat, looking between Leonard and Kirk with a confused expression on his face. "Governor Kirk, it seems to me your doctors have given you quite a bit of information. If that's the case, why the distress call to Starfleet?"

"We can't control it. It's spreading far too fast for my team to be able to do anything about it and more and more people are becoming sick each day. I don't know if you've noticed, but Tarsus isn't exactly large and most of the people on this planet were either born here or haven't set foot off planet in over ten years. I would assume those from Earth probably have more up to date training and education than mine would?"

A chuckle escapes from one of the doctors to Leonard's left and he turns to see who it is. He has to resist rolling his eyes as the man speaks. "We're probably years ahead of your doctors."

Kirk doesn't disagree. "That very well may be true. In some ways, I hope it is. I've talked it over with the local hospital and they have agreed for you to shadow them for a day before you start taking patients of your own. This isn't a vacation and you will be working. Although, I assume you're all used to working long hours?" He smiles as some of the crew chuckle. "Great. You're to report to the hospital at 0700 hours. If there are no further questions, you're all dismissed. Sleep well, and if there is anything at all you need or that can be used to help, please don't hesitate to ask."

0700 hours met a bleary eyed Leonard McCoy who is half way through this third cup of regenerated coffee. He has always hated the stuff and has disliked it even more since joining Starfleet where it was the only option available. He shuffles into the Tarsian hospital, more than a little surprised at the style. Doctors in white coats, their faces covered with masks, bustle past Leonard in a hurry, barely noticing him. Leonard pays them no heed and moves toward the back of the hospital as he was commanded. There, he finds what he assumes to be a nurses station. They pause momentarily and stare at him with distrusting eyes.

"May we help you, sir?" A nurses asks him, never lowering the mask from her face.

"Doctor Leonard McCoy. I was supposed to report to the Chief of Staff?"

"Are you one of the Starfleet officers?"

Leonard feels heat creeping on the back of his neck. "Yes, ma'am."

"One moment, please." The nurse disappears into a back room and returns momentarily with an older gentlemen, who looks at Leonard with the same untrusting eyes as the rest of the crew had.

"You're from Starfleet?"

"Yes. Doctor Leonard McCoy." Leonard sticks out his hand toward the doctor, who takes it and gives it a firm shake in return. "The other doctors and I met briefly with Governor Kirk last night. He explained the situation as best he could, but I'm still unclear as to how this all began, if we're quite honest."

"You're about as clear as the rest of us – we gave Governor Kirk all we knew." The man began walking as he talked and Leonard followed without further comment. "The first girl died so suddenly. We're used to seeing fast acting illnesses, and usually we can control or decrease them before they turn fatal. This wasn't just one incident, however. This has affected over two hundred people and growing. We're getting desperate and more and more patients are flooding the hospital daily."

"What about lab work?"

"We work with what we have." The doctor turns to face Leonard, as if assessing if he can trust him. "Between you and me, Doctor McCoy, Tarsus doesn't exactly have the most technologically advanced medicine in the galaxy. We're years behind what you're working with."

'_Ah, the mistakes of being shut off from anyone for over ten years'_ Leonard thought. "The lab upon the ship may be temporary, but it's fully functional and will be able to give us the information we need. We'll be able to take samples and swabs from the patients, won't we?"

The look on the doctor's face tells Leonard he'd would rather them not, but he nods instead. "Governor Kirk told us to do anything you needed."

Leonard sees other doctors interacting with patients as he goes about his day, first shadowing the Chief of Staff, then taking his own. They people, even sick, are friendly but suspicious and they gaze uncertainly at Leonard as he speaks to them. He's quick with his work, doesn't linger – Leonard isn't well known for his bedside manner.

One patient, however, refuses to take his silence. "Do they train you to be rude in Starfleet?" she asks one day, barking at him in a sharp tone. She had been completely silent before and Leonard almost jumps when he hears her speak."

"No, ma'am." He answers. "That's just me."

"You admit to being rude?"

"I admit to not having the best bedside manner, yes." Leonard says. There is no use denying it – he's known it for years. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It isn't intentional. I'm usually so focused on what I'm doing, I lose track of everything else."

She huffs, but allows him to go about his business. It's moments before she speaks again. "Think you have a cure?"

"We don't know yet." Leonard answers. "Lie down and breathe normally." She does as he asks and he presses a stethoscope to her chest, listening to the sound of her lungs as she takes shallow breaths. He almost breathes a sigh of relief – she's the first person today who isn't showing signs of liquid in their lungs. He takes notes and hands them off to a nurse, ordering several tests and lab samples to be taken.

Leonard is used to dealing with hospitals, but he has never dealt with one that was only partially operational. Several times he orders a test only to be met with a blank stare and a sense of frustration that it will have to wait until he returns to the ship. The nurses and doctors aren't much better – they work with what they have and do not seem interested in anything else.

Upon returning to the ship, he finds his experience was not unique. "They don't seem to have any interest in helping us at all," one of the other doctors complains, while carting several carriers full of lab samples. "They're content to do what they've been doing all along! They're killing their own people!"

Leonard doesn't disagree, but he's almost too tired to even verbalize this.


End file.
